


Snow Globe

by endoftheziam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Coffee Shops, DracoxHarry - Freeform, Drarry, Enemies to Lovers, Gay Harry Potter, M/M, Snow, Snow Globe, Snowed In, Texas, Texas AU, Winter, coffeeshop, snowstorm AU, winter storm texas, wrotethisduringtheblackout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29728365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endoftheziam/pseuds/endoftheziam
Summary: If Harry had wanted to be snowed in with anyone, it certainly wouldn't be  Draco Malfoy. He can't figure out why, but ever since he started working at the Dragon Bean Cafe, Draco has hated him.But the snowstorm that sweeps through Texas, icing the roads and knocking out the power, had other plans.Can Draco and Harry work together and melt the ice between them?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53
Collections: Drarry26





	1. Chapter 1: Iced In

**Chapter 1**

"I made hot chocolate. Do you want some?" Harry held up a mug, already topped with whipped cream and peppermint shavings. 

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather eat glass."

If Harry had known he was going to be snowed in at work, he would have hoped that it would be with Anna, who could make little pictures in the lattes. Or Martha, who always gave him chocolates. 

He even would have been happy with the night guy, Travis, who always smelled like Cheetos and called women 'females'.

Anybody would have been better than Draco Malfoy. 

No matter what Harry did, no matter how many times he came in early or stayed late, offered to give Draco extra breaks, cleaned without being asked, the tension was still as palpable as ever. 

The animosity between them had been absolute from the first day, when Harry had arrived for his first real shift at the café. He’d found Draco rifling through the breakfast bar, meticulously lining up the napkins and arranging the straws.

"I'm Harry." Harry held out his hand. “Where do you want me?” 

Draco glared at Harry’s hand. "Hands carry bacteria. Make sure you wash yours. Your fingernails are filthy."

"I--"

"I'm going to put you on kitchen duty." He gestured to the plates and mugs stacked in the sink. "Try not to break anything."

"Oh, okay do I--"

" _What?'_

"Do you want me to clock in first, or--"

"I don't give a shit if you get paid, _Potter_."

And that's the way it was. Harry tried his best to be as kind as possible, going out of his way to do work without being asked, to never ask for anything, but none of it seemed to have an effect. Draco belittled him constantly, nitpicking every tiny detail. Harry folded the napkins incorrectly. He didn’t set out the mugs with the handles facing out. He packed the breakfast bar too slowly. And, when he couldn't find something to criticize, Draco would just stand there, breathing deeply through his nose, until he finally muttered something about the restroom and stormed off.

Harry couldn’t understand why Draco hated him so much. With the other managers, Harry had never had a problem. Even Pansy, who everyone said was impossible, got on with him just fine. No one else seemed to be annoyed by him, to have a problem with the way he stacked the dishes or whistled while he waited for the espresso machine to warm up in the morning.

After a couple weeks, Harry finally got the courage to ask one of the other managers, Blaise, about it.

"So—Draco. What’s his deal?"

"Malfoy?" Blaise laughed. "Ignore him. He's been an ass to everyone since he got dumped by his girlfriend."

"When was that?"'

"Last year." Blaise rolled his eyes. "He's decided that since she doesn't love him, he can't ever love, blah blah blah...your basic indie rom com moody bullshit."

"Oh. Who was he dating?'

Blaise leaned in. "Anna."

"Anna? But isn't she with--"

"George? Yeah. They met here. It was very dramatic. Like Lady and the Tramp."

"So--"

"So basically, Anna dumped him, and he never got over it. And it ruined their friendship, and nobody would talk to him, and now, well--seems like he's taking it out on you."

"But why take it out on me? Why isn’t he mad at Anna?”

Blaise shrugged.

"So he's just a dick, then?" He ran a hand through his hair as Draco walked through the door, his aviators pushed back into his fine blond hair. He seemed to wear the black uniform like it was a personal charge to look as stylish as possible, and with his combat boots, he was pulling it off perfectly. The sunlight seemed to catch him as he walked into it, lending him a silvery glow. Harry felt his stomach drop.

“Is he really bothering you?" Blaise asked. "I'll talk to him. He doesn't scare me."

"No, it's fine." Harry watched Draco's long fingers punch in his ID code. "Really."

But Blaise must have done something, because after that, Harry rarely worked with Draco. It was usually only if their shifts overlapped; Harry coming in for the evening, Draco finishing out the morning. There was one memorable time when Harry had covered Ron's morning shift with Draco, and they’d been forced to work together for four hours. They didn't say a word to each other the entire time.

Harry was just starting to think that this job was...bearable. He got free drinks, and the customers were nicer than most. No one was yelling at him or telling him that he needed to make something of his life, and his coworkers were kind and outgoing and didn't seem all that gossipy. So what if he had a problem with one coworker? He could avoid him, and life would go on…

Then the ice storm hit. The worst in recorded history, especially for this far south. 

In this part of Texas, snow was a fairytale: far-fetched and fantastic. Everyone spoke about the snow in hushed tones, as though speaking about it too much would scare the winter miracle away. People told stories about how the air smelled different, of were children on toboggans, the whole world was at a standstill.

Harry thought of the snow as magic, something that only arrived every decade or so, that always marked something important. The last snowstorm had been on his thirteenth birthday, and he'd kissed his first crush, Cedric Diggory, behind the snowman they'd built together, their lips tasting of Chapstick and ice. 

There had been a chance of snow this weekend, but Harry hadn’t taken it seriously. The forecasters said it might snow nearly every winter, and they were always wrong. Nothing like that was going to happen, especially in Texas.

When Harry walked outside to a winter wonderland, he realized how wrong he was.

Harry shouldn't have come into work. Sure, the café was open, but it was _always_ open. Harry had only been able to get there because he lived half a mile away, and it was still a half-mile of biting wind and numb fingers and riding his bike as carefully as he could over all the ice.

When he'd opened the door and found the cafe dark and Draco sitting with his arms crossed at one of the tables, his heart sank. 

"Took you long enough," Draco said. "I'm heading out."

"You don't think people are seriously going to come in this?'

"I think that we aren't paid to sit around."

"You were just sitting when I got--"

"Just go count your bills at the register.""

Harry stopped. The last thing he needed was to antagonize Draco and get fired. Maybe work would be boring, but at least it was warm. He could barely feel the tips of his fingers, and his toes felt like blocks of ice. "Okay."

They worked around each other in almost complete silence, save for the ambient sounds of the café’s indie playlist. Harry hated the quiet--he missed Anna's relentless chatter, or Ron's attempts to create new songs over the 'deep, introspective melodies. He missed being able to _laugh._

It was right when Harry had finished counting the bills, and Draco had already clocked out, that both their phones started going off. 

"Emergency Winter Storm Warning." Harry said aloud. "All roads closed.'

"What? How am I supposed to get home?"

"I have a bike, so I should be good." Harry said. "You can--stay with me if you need to."

Draco ignored him. "We're supposed to be closed." Draco shook his head. "Why the Hell corporate would even make me come into this godforsaken--"

"So--I can go home, right?'

"Of course--I'm so sorry." and for the first time, Draco looked genuinely apologetic. “Get home safe.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Later.” But instead of following Harry out the door, Draco simply moved to a table and sat, still scrolling through his phone.

Harry grabbed his coat, unable to believe his luck, and dashed out the door, only to skid all the way into his bike, sending it, and himself, tumbling to the ground

"Shit," Harry muttered, clutching his knee. 

"Oh, hell no," said a voice, and Harry looked up to see Draco, sliding a foot experimentally across the ice. He looked over at his car, an old Mustang, which was caked in snow and ice. "Shit." He said. "Shit, shit, shit."

"There's a lot of that going around." Harry called. 

Draco looked over at him, frowning, as though he had forgotten he was there. "Come inside. There's no way anyone should be on the road right now."

"But I only live a half mile away.” Harry hauled his bike up and tried to roll it, then nearly fell as he slid on the ice again. “I can walk--"

_"Inside."_

Harry limped inside, resting his bike against the wall just on the inside of the door. In spite of Draco’s hostility, he was somewhat grateful for delaying the inevitable trek in the snow. It was _freezing,_ and he could already feel a bruise forming on his knee. Maybe it would be smart to stay in until the roads thawed out. There were sure to be dozens of accidents in weather like this.

 _Although,_ Harry thought to himself. _Being locked in a confined space with Draco Malfoy might be even more dangerous than iced-out roads._

And as the mug of hot chocolate that Harry had so meticulously crafted for Draco cooled in front of him, Harry started to wonder again whether death from exposure would be preferable to being snowed in with Draco Malfoy. They had been sitting at the same table in silence, listening to the indie music playlist repeat itself, and Harry felt like he might spontaneously combust from the awkwardness.

"Can I get you anything else?" Harry asked desperately. At least if he was standing at the breakfast bar, he’d have something to do with his hands.

"No." Draco looked up from his phone, and his eyes met Harry's. "Sorry," He said. "It's just--my phone is about to die, which is kind of like an EKG and ventilator rolled into one for me, so I'm a little--"

"Oh, okay. Well, we have those magazines--"

Draco put his head in his hands. "I fucking hate this place."

"Yeah. I can see that." Harry said. He got up from table and wandered over to one of the velvet couches, as far away from Draco as he could get. He flicked the TV to the local weather channel.

"It's gonna be a rough night, folks." the anchorwoman was saying, gesturing to the numbers on the screen. "The governor has issued a state of emergency, and all the major roads are closed to all but essential traffic. There have been a number of accidents and deaths already." She looked directly into the camera. "Stay home. It's not worth your life." 

Harry sighed. He checked his phone, but it was empty of texts and calls, as usual. He'd just graduated from college and moved out here, and he didn't have any friends in the area yet. He didn't even have a plan, or a roommate to text. Not even a cat to feed.

He texted his mother, _Just want to let u know I'm stranded at work, but ok._

 _We should move to Ecuador_ , his mother wrote back _. I hate the cold!_

Harry rolled his eyes and locked his phone. It only had 50% battery, and he hadn't brought a charger, either.

Harry flipped through the channels and finally settled on an old episode of _Friends_. Before he could change the channel, he heard Draco laugh softly along with the track. He turned halfway around in his chair.

Draco was sipping from the hot chocolate, his badass combat boots propped on a table. Harry left the show on, bewildered. He didn't think he'd ever heard Draco laugh.

"You like _Friends_?'

"Watch it while I'm doing laundry." Draco said. "It...helps."

"Helps with what?'

"The quiet." 

"Oh."

They sat in silence for an entire episode and halfway through the next, before Draco got up and stretched. "I'm gonna make a breakfast sandwich." He said. "You want one?'

"Sure." Harry got up from the tv and went to the bathroom. When he came out, Draco was busying himself at the panini press, bending down so that he could make sure the bread was being pressed evenly.

"You don't need to do that." Harry said. "The microwave's fine."

"But the panini press is better." Draco flashed him a quick grin, and Harry had to grip onto the table from the force of it.

When the sandwiches were ready, Draco grabbed them both some waters, and they sat down on the same velvet couch Harry had occupied earlier, side by side. Draco crossed his legs, his knee barely brushing the edge of Harry's thigh.

Harry couldn't believe what had happened. Draco had gone from barking orders at him to---sitting down to a meal? Fixing him a sandwich?

 _Maybe it's all a ruse to lull me into a false sense of security,_ Harry thought. _Maybe this sandwich is poisoned._

He eyed it for a half-second, then bit into it. It was delicious. 

"So," Draco said. "Do you like working here?' 

"It's alright." Harry said. "The people are nice."

Draco snorted. "Yeah. They are."

"Something I said?'

"No." Draco said shortly, but a moment later, the volume was turned up on the tv. 

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked over the laugh track.

Draco shot him a side glance, but said nothing, so Harry pressed on. "Why do you call me 'Potter'?"

Draco frowned. "What do you mean? Isn't that your name?'

"It's my last name.'

"So--"

"You call everyone else by their first name."

"I don't know--it just--fits you."

"More than my _first name?"_

 _"_ Is it _bothering_ you?'

"No, I mean--I guess it--"

"Fine. I'll call you 'Harry' from now on." Draco snapped. "Happy?"

Harry said nothing, but shifted away from Draco on the couch. When he finished his sandwich, he got up, grabbed a magazine from the shelf, and sat in one of the corner armchairs 

Draco didn't even glance at him.

Harry rubbed his eyes. His glasses were fogging up. _Probably steam from the sandwich,_ he thought furiously. _He's not going to make me cry. He's not._

Why did Draco have this effect on him? It wasn't like they were friends. He wasn’t even that mean, he was just... indifferent.

Harry glanced over at Draco, then away quickly. He was sprawled out on the couch, one hand resting on his stomach, rising and falling gently as he breathed. Harry's cheeks flushed. Why did everything Draco did make Harry feel like he was an exposed nerve, sensitive to the slightest breath of the wind? Why did Draco make him feel so _open?_

After a few minutes, though, Harry stopped worrying about what Draco thought of him.

The power went out. 


	2. Chapter 2: Snowflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry play a game.

"Come on," Draco said, after they had sat in darkness for a few minutes. "Let's get ready."

"For what?"

"If there's a power outage, there's a water outage not far behind it. He kicked the mop bucket to Harry. "Fill this up. I'm going to make sure we have enough drinking water stocked."

"I'm sure it'll come on soon," Harry said. 

"Better safe than sorry.” 

They worked in silence beside each other for a while, using a couple of the emergency flashlights to light the area. 

"Shouldn't we call to report the outage/?"

"My phone's dead." Draco said.

"Right." Harry looked up the number and dialed. He listened to the automated voice on the phone. "Just says they're aware of outages." he said. "But it's not looking good."

"Whatever. Come on." Draco handed him a lighter and gestured to the candles arrayed about the shop. "Light these. Then do me a favor and close the blinds.”

"Why?"

"If the blinds are open, heat escapes." Draco said. "Hurry up."

Harry did so, then sat back down on the couch. Draco opened the ottoman in front of it and pulled out a few blankets, throwing them over the both of them.

"Here."

"Lucky they keep these here."

" _I_ keep them here." 

"What?"

Draco looked down. "I uh--lived here for a while. Right after I graduated. I was living with Anna, but--"

"Oh." Harry felt his cheeks burn. "Sorry."

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Apologizing every time you say something awkward. At this rate, you'll be apologizing until the lights come back on."

Just as Draco finished his sentence, there was a buzzing noise, and the lights flashed back on. There was a roar as the heater coughed back to life.

"Well, that was neat." Harry said.

"Don't count on it." Draco muttered. "I'll be right back." He rushed out the door and emerged a few moments later with a phone charger. "It's icy out there. There's no way we're leaving until this clears."

"You mean--we're stuck here? For the whole night?"

"At least." Draco said grimly.

"I only live a half mile away." Harry got to his feet, intending to check the door. "I'm sure I can figure out--"

"Absolutely not. No traffic lights, idiots who don't know how to drive, iced roads that haven't been treated. You're staying here."

"I'll be _fine_." Harry rolled his eyes. Draco was so paranoid. No wonder everyone annoyed him. "Sidewalks. Boots." he held up his foot. "I'm golden."

"Look, Potter if you die, then it'll be my fault, and I really can't stand the guilt, okay? What the hell am I supposed to say to your poor mother? I annoyed you enough that you risked death from exposure to get away from me?"

"I thought you were calling me 'Harry' now," 

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, but his tone was absolute. "You're staying here."

"Yes, sir." Harry said, just to see what he'd do.

Was that anger, or was that a flush of something else spreading to Draco's cheeks, making his eyes glitter?

He plugged in his phone and sat in front of the tv. "I'm choosing what's on the tv."

"Fine." Harry took out his phone and started scrolling through Twitter, trying to find updates on the outages.

They sat in silence again, but Harry could swear that there was less animosity between them than there had been. In the past, it felt like Draco spent every moment in a room with him wishing that he could walk out of it.

 _Maybe he's actually working toward...tolerance?_ Harry thought about Draco’s insistence that he not bike home in the snow. There was something almost…sweet about it. _Maybe he’s starting to like me._

They sat there in silence for a while, but eventually Harry grew tired of checking Twitter for updates. It was the same pedantic messages from the same distressed politicians and power companies.

He started pacing around the cafe, trolling for distractions. He wished he'd brought his switch or a book at least--the magazines were, after all, the kind of material that you should never read seriously.

Harry wandered over to the stack of board games at the back. He ran his finger down the titles. 

"Wanna play Monopoly?"

"Absolutely not."

"Wait--" Harry frowned at a Lord of the Rings chess set, whose box seemed to be jutting out from the wall-- "No way.'

"What?' Draco got up and wandered over to him. "I'm not playing chess with you, if that's what you're thinking."

"It's the only two player game here besides poker and Go Fish." Harry said. "And I hate Go Fish, and I don't understand Poker."

"It's not like we have to play a game." Draco frowned. "We'll just have to clean all this up later."

"If I'm going to be stuck here with you, it can't just be all dour silences and emo brooding."

"I am _not_ brooding."

"Besides, that wasn't what I called you over for." He reached behind the chess set and pulled out a glass bottle, about half full. 

He shook the vodka in Draco's face. "Will this convince you to play with me?'

Draco's eyes darkened, but he didn't say a word. 

He simply reached around Harry, the wool of his sweater brushing against Harry's chest, and withdrew the chess set. He smelled like a combination of mint and coffee beans, and Harry felt something inside him tighten at his closeness.

"Fine." Draco said, his eyes meeting Harry's with something like a challenge. "But I get black."

***

The chess game started well enough.

Harry fully expected to lose, but he was hoping that some of Ron’s strategy would have sunk into his brain by osmosis, and a brilliant game plan would come to him.

That was not the case, unfortunately.

Harry, as it turned out, wasn’t much of a strategist. At least, not against Draco Malfoy. He kept getting distracted. It was all he could do to remember which piece moved where, and Draco still had to correct him sometimes.

“Knights don’t move vertical like that. You’re thinking of a castle.”

“Oh, right.” Harry moved the piece back. He moved a castle forward, and Draco immediately took it with one of his pawns.

“Damn.”

Draco was silent; he just gestured at Harry to continue, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

Draco, as it turned out, was _good_ at chess. His entire body was taut, like a coiled spring, and his eyes seemed to glimmer every time he made a move. There was a wrinkle that would appear in the middle of his forehead whenever he was planning something, and his eyes kept flickering to Harry's face and back to the chess pieces.

Finally, in some desperate attempt to regain control of the volatile tension permeating the room, Harry said, "I propose a drinking game."

"Huh?" Draco sat back for a moment, the haze of concentration lifting from his eyes. 

"Question, or drink." Harry held up the bottle. “It’ll be fun.”

"Aren't we playing enough of a game right now?" Draco asked. He dropped his gaze back to the board. "Sounds to me like you're afraid of losing, Potter."

Harry didn't know what made him do it, but he reached across to grab Draco's chin and force his head up, so that he was looking Harry in the eyes "Do I look afraid to you?" Harry asked.

He felt Draco swallow, and a surge of warmth suffused his body.

"Fine." Draco said. "So--I have to drink or answer a question about myself?"

"Yes." Harry said. He let go of Draco’s chin and sat back.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on the game?' Draco moved his knight, and one of Harry's bishops fell. "Looks like you'll need it."

Harry said nothing. He thought that saying _I don't care about_ that _game_ would come on too strong. And he wasn't sure exactly what was happening between the two of them, only that the cafe seemed a lot hotter, and Draco's eyes were wide and glistening, and there was a little tracery of veins along his neck that Harry could see even now, and he had a sudden urge to run his lips along them, to feel where the blood pulsed---

_What am I doing?_

Harry snapped out of it and stared down at the game board, trying to focus on the pieces. _Draco hates me,_ he thought. _Doesn't he?_

"First question." Harry moved one of his castles and took out one of Draco's bishops. "What happened between you and Anna?"

Draco took a drink.

"Come on!" Harry's eyes met Draco's, then he looked away. "That's not fair."

"Maybe start with 'what's your favorite color'. You're not getting the gossip out of me that easy."

"That's not what I was trying to do."

"Of course it was. You, Blaise, Pansy--it's just about who's the Drama Central Couple of the Week. I'm not about to feed the proverbial tabloids anymore."

"They're not like that."

"Aren't they? You graduated from U of H. Major in English. Rejected from all the major master's programs. You like to read, but you hate doing research. Your parents are divorced, and you have two siblings that you aren't really close to. Your last boyfriend was a guy in your computer science class, and you broke up because you caught him cheating."

"That's not even true!" Harry protested. "He was in my physics class. Freshman year."

Draco took another sip of vodka. "You tell people shit, and all they do is tell everybody about you behind your back. This whole place is like gossip girl--minus the hot people." 

"What's the problem with that?"

"I don't like having something I said to someone in confidence become everyone’ favorite daytime soap opera." He moved his bishop and took out another of Harry's pawns. "Check."

They played in silence for a while, but it was clear that Draco was better at the game than Harry. Finally, when Draco took his inevitable checkmate, Harry said. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

Draco sighed. The color in his cheeks had turned a darker pinkish red since the vodka, and he looked tired and soft all of a sudden, as though the alcohol and the rush of the game had worn his hard places away.

He looked into Harry's eyes, then at the bottle.. "Not any I want answered."

"Fine." Harry grabbed the bottle and drank, wincing at the burn of alcohol down his throat. "I guess we're going to just have to get drunk in silence. Hemingway style."

"You like Hemingway?"

"I'm an English major. Legally, I'm not allowed to _dislike_ Hemingway." Harry handed the bottle back to Draco, who took a sip.

"But do you?" Draco asked. "Like him?'

"Not really." Harry shrugged. "You?'

"I've only ever read _The Sun Also Rises_ in school." Draco said. "I liked that."

"Dear God, why?'

"Well, it's the whole Lost Generation, isn't it? The general air of disillusionment with the American--'

Harry scoffed over Draco's soliloquy, and for a moment thought he had overstepped.

"Something wrong with criticizing the American Dream?" Draco's voice had gone low, and Harry couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

"I don't deal in depression as the ultimate meaning of life." Harry said. 

"That's rather naive for an underemployed English major."

"I just mean--" Harry waved his hands emphatically "--the whole idea that all we do is try to fill the void inside ourselves with parties and frivolity while our lives are empty--it's just not how most people are. Every Hemingway book is like, "They go to parties and nothing happens."

"That's not true." Draco said. "In _The Sun Also Rises,_ Jake's dick doesn't work, and then they go to the Running of the Bulls, and then they go fishing, and _then_ nothing happens."

"Yeah, I'm not a fan." Harry could feel himself getting warmer inside, and took another sip of the vodka. It was starting to taste a little better now, though he still wished he had a chaser. "There are still things you can live for."

"Like?"

"Other people." Harry said. "Love. Friendship. Joy."

"Fuck. Are you about to break into song?"

Harry shook his head. "Believe what you want. But _The Sun Also Rises_ is trash."

Draco shrugged. "Helped me."

"Helped you what? You trying to tell me your dick doesn't work?'

"Helped me when I found out I was a supporting character in my own story."

"What?'

"You ever read those romance novels?" He tipped his head to the side, and took the bottle back. His fingers fumbled over it a little, and Harry realized that Draco was already tipsy.

 _Who would have thought a Hemingway fan would be such a lightweight_?

"Where the grand gesture gets the girl in the end? Or, the best friends fall in love? Or, she doesn't realize until the last minute that he's meant for her?"

"Or they pretend to hate each other for half the book, then fall in love at the end." Harry said, thinking of _Pride and Prejudice._

"Yeah. Well. What if the grand gesture doesn't work? You say the words in the pouring rain, you hold up a boombox outside her window. You tell her everything she wants to hear, and you're gracious and kind and--it doesn't matter. Because the person she's supposed to be with--just isn't you."

"Are you talking about Anna?'

Draco sighed and took another swig of the bottle. His expression had turned distant; his eyes seemed far away, like he was almost talking to someone else entirely.

"Anna was my favorite person in the world," Draco said. "And I fell in love with her. And then she met him." He shook his head. "Everyone was so excited when they got together. She'd loved him for so long, and it always seemed like he never even noticed. Except _I_ noticed." He took a breath, and his eyes met Harry's. "I noticed-- _everything_."

"And now?" Harry said softly, his eyes never leaving Draco's, something in his chest begging him to go on.

"Now I'm just the friendzoned loser." Draco shrugged. "Who can't move on."

"I wouldn't call you a loser." Harry said. "Technically, you're my boss."

Draco gave a watery chuckle. "It's just--" he sighed. "I'd never hold any of it against her, you know? I'm not trying to sound like she owed me anything. But it’s hard be the person no one ever picks.” He tipped over his king, so that it fell onto the chessboard. “Seems like I’m always the placeholder."

Harry looked at him for a long moment, his chest aching. "Well," he said quietly. "I don't think you're a placeholder, if that's any consolation."

"Potter," Draco looked up at him, and there was something far too raw in his eyes. It was almost as though he was afraid. "Always the sunny optimism with you. Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

"Sometimes.” Harry said softly. And he didn’t know why, what made him say it, but he continued: "My parents died in a car crash when I was two. I never really knew them."

Draco's eyes flashed, but he was silent as Harry went on. " I love my adopted parents, but—no matter how much someone loves you, sometimes they just die on you. Or they leave. Everyone leaves, one way or another. So what's the point of getting close to anybody? What's the use in all that hurt?" Harry stopped himself from going on, trying to blink away the tears. What was wrong with him? He _never_ talked about his birth parents.

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched. "So you _do_ have a dark side. I was just beginning to think you were boring." 

"Well. I try to turn towards the light as much as I can." Harry said, relieved to find that his voice wasn’t shaking. "There's only room for one emo kid in this cafe." 

Draco laughed and pushed the bottle back over to Harry. "Touché." 

Harry drank, and something about the rush of the alcohol, and the way Draco's eyes were still glittering, the splay of those hands against the red velvet, gave him the courage to do what he did next. 

"Draco?" 

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?'

"I don't know what else you could possibly want to know about me."

"Why do you act like you hate me?'

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I don't hate you."

"That's not what I asked. You walk out of every room I walk into. Unless there's a blizzard, you'd do anything to get away from me. I just--is it something I did? Is there a _reason?”_

"I don't hate you." Draco said again, but he seemed to be struggling with something. Harry could practically feel it, turning the air liquid with tension, so that every flex of Draco's shoulders, every shift in his seat, was in slow motion. Harry had never felt so attuned to someone in his life, and he wondered how much was the vodka and the night, and how much was the same thing he'd felt the first time he'd walked up to Draco, and felt that pit in his stomach that meant his world had shifted.

"You're funny." Harry pressed on. "And you never make me work late when we work together, and you made sure I was okay in the storm, and sometimes I think--" he stopped. 

Draco looked at him, and his eyes had turned gray, the color of a sky that threatened snowfall. Magical. Fantastic.

Inevitable.

He got up and walked over to Harry, then took his hand. Harry tried to ask a question, but Draco shushed him, which was probably for the best. At the touch of his hand, Harry's brain had completely shut off. He didn't think he could string a sentence together. 

Draco pulled Harry to his feet, so that they were nearly chest to chest. Harry was a little shorter than Draco, and when he looked up, it was to see Draco's soft, thin mouth, to feel his chest rise and fall against his own.

"Harry," Draco breathed. "I don't hate you.

And Harry, who couldn't wait one more second, twisted his fists up in Draco's sweater and pulled him down, so that Draco's mouth slanted across his.

The kiss lit up every neuron in Harry's brain, and at the same time, it felt intoxicating, like he'd downed that entire bottle of vodka and then moved on to whiskey. His limbs felt leaden and fluid, and he was barely aware of his own whimpering as Draco deepened the kiss, as he moved him over to the couch, running his lips along Harry's jawline and neck.

The moment was an iridescent bubble, magical and exhilarating. It was the snow, turning the mundane into the sudden magic. Harry could feel Draco's heart hammering against his own, and it seemed to echo the way he felt again that pit in his stomach, and the world shifting beneath his feet.

"So you found the vodka."

Draco and Harry broke apart.

Blaise was standing at the entrance, with red and blue lights flashing behind him. "We're evacuating y'all in case the pipes burst." He said. "Warming centers are gonna be the only places with power. But by all means,” he smirked. “Snuggle up."

"Blaise," Harry said. "we were just--"

"Wait til I tell the guys!"

Harry winced. "Please don't--"

"You know what?" Draco said. He got to his feet and held out his hand to Harry. "Tell them." He linked his fingers with Harry's, and looked deeply into his eyes. "I don't care."

"Okay, but can you press pause on the gooey shit? You're making the first responders uncomfortable.”

But Harry and Draco couldn't care less about what anyone else thought. For Blaise and the firefighters, this was a natural disaster. A blizzard of epic proportions.

But for Harry and Draco, this moment was an iridescent, gleaming glass landscape, set upon the mantle. Nothing less than a snow globe, frozen in shining time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, shout out to @tearinmyarc for editing
> 
> And finally, to Ted Cruz and Governor Abbott and every other Republican in Texas who got us into this mess: kiss my ass. :)

**Author's Note:**

> [I wrote this because I didn't have power for two days and I made up a story to entertain myself. Thank you again to @tearinmyarc for editing. 
> 
> Also: Fuck Ted Cruz.]


End file.
